Ghost Eyes Kootenai Pack 2 1st Edition

Lynn Katzenmeyer Katzenmeyer Lynn

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://textbookfull.com/product/ghost-eyes-kootenai-pack-2-1st-edition-lynn-katzenm
eyer-katzenmeyer-lynn/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Fallen Lorde Kootenai Pack 3 1st Edition Lynn

Katzenmeyer Katzenmeyer Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/fallen-lorde-kootenai-
pack-3-1st-edition-lynn-katzenmeyer-katzenmeyer-lynn/

Tooth and Claw Kootenai Pack 1 1st Edition Lynn

Katzenmeyer Katzenmeyer Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/tooth-and-claw-kootenai-
pack-1-1st-edition-lynn-katzenmeyer-katzenmeyer-lynn/

Lustfully Yours 7 Deadly Sins 1st Edition Andi Lynn

[Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/lustfully-yours-7-deadly-
sins-1st-edition-andi-lynn-lynn/

Christmas Cupcake Stripper Chronicles 1st Edition

Courtney Lynn Rose Rose Courtney Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/christmas-cupcake-stripper-
chronicles-1st-edition-courtney-lynn-rose-rose-courtney-lynn/
The Royal Gardner vs the Commoner Foreman Royal
Superpowers 1st Edition Lynn Lorenz Lorenz Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/the-royal-gardner-vs-the-
commoner-foreman-royal-superpowers-1st-edition-lynn-lorenz-
lorenz-lynn/

Powerless 1st Edition Childs Tera Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/powerless-1st-edition-childs-
tera-lynn/

Relentless 1st Edition Childs Tera Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/relentless-1st-edition-childs-
tera-lynn/

Powerless 1st Edition Childs Tera Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/powerless-1st-edition-childs-
tera-lynn-2/

Triplet Babies for her Billionaire CEO A Multiple Baby

Romance 1st Edition Sophia Lynn & Ella Brooke [Lynn

https://textbookfull.com/product/triplet-babies-for-her-
billionaire-ceo-a-multiple-baby-romance-1st-edition-sophia-lynn-
ella-brooke-lynn/
Ghost Eyes
 Ghost Eyes
A Kootenai Pack novel

Lynn Katzenmeyer
 Ghost Eyes
Copyright © 2019 Lynn Katzenmeyer

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used

in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of
the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are

either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental

Cover design by nirkri

You can find their amazing work at

http://www.fiverr.com/nirkri

ISBN: 9781695593206
Imprint: Independently published
 Introduction

I searched for years for the little wolf.

I didn’t expect to find her again.

I figured her pack killed her when they realized what she was.
Then I felt her again.
I had to have her.
Nothing would keep us apart.
-The Beast of Barrow
 Prologue
Jen Three weeks Before Ascension
The late summer wind battered the scrap of flag. From my
den on the mountain, I saw the flag ascend the rusted pole. It was
too early for my supplies to be filled. My wolf didn’t share my
concern. A hot, dry summer left skinny deer, and skittish cottontails.
She was hungry.
My wolf loped down the mountain as soon as the sun set. The
Alpha who forced us to remain hidden was fierce when he caught
sight of us. I was only allowed on pack lands during the new moon
and only at the supply box, to be filled by my parents, if they were
generous enough to remember.
The closer I got, the more the scent of smoked meat tickled
my nose. Drool pooled in my jaws. I needed this. We needed this.
This winter would likely be the worst one yet. We were already
hungry, by the time the snow fell, we’d be starving.
The chain on the flagpole rattled in the wind. There was a
storm brewing. Prudence would have me wait until the storm front
passed before taking my food, but hunger drove to the box. My wolf
smelled others nearby, but her focus was on the delicious meat
waiting for her. The entire pack was terrified of Ghost Eyes, they
wouldn’t come near her. She had nothing to fear, and everything to
gain.
The rain started, swirling all the scents of the mountain into a
watery mess. I made it to the box. All I had to do was shift to
human form, collect the goods, shift back, and carry it in my jaws to
my den. From there I’d sort through it.
My wolf ceded control of the body to me. Some bones break,
some shrink, others grow, the worst part of the process is the
receding of the fur. Thousands of pin pricks shoving inside of my
body. I hated it. I hated the process, I did it as little as possible,
preferring to live in wolf form. It was safer that way.
“Jennifer?” a female voice asked. The voice was vaguely
familiar but shaking with fear. Even through the steady rain and my
human nose, I could scent her fear.
I looked around seeking out the voice. I heard several sets of
footsteps. More wolves in human form were approaching. They were
circling.
“Jennifer Clearie,” a confident male voice that also seemed
familiar spoke out, “You’re safe, we just want to talk.”
I snorted. Yeah, sure, they want to talk to Ghost Eyes. The
cursed one, the witch of the Great Smoky Pack. They didn’t want to
talk to me. They either wanted to kill me, or exile me, for real this
time. I slowed my circle looking for the best point of exit, but I was
surrounded.
“Jennifer,” I stopped my circling. I knew that voice, I’d know
that voice anywhere.
“Mama?” of all the voices I’d heard tonight, my own was the
most foreign. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken aloud.
“Jenny,” Mama’s voice rang out and she stepped closer so I
could see her. She looked so old. Her once brown hair was thin and
grey. Her beautiful face was marred with deep wrinkles. Her brown
eyes, so much like the ones I’d seen on my own face before the
curse.
“It’s alright, Jenny,” Mama said, “We found your mate.”
 Chapter 1
Kendrick
One Month Before Ascension
“Willow says an Alpha Council Enforcer is in your office,”
Jackson said. He leaned on the doorway to my old bedroom. I could
see the disapproval in his face. His eyes scanned the room before
returning to my face, “You moping again?”
He never understood my grief about Aster. To him, she was
just an impulsive decision that went horribly awry. How could he
possibly understand all I lost in two short years. His mate was
downstairs cooking in the kitchen for the pack meeting tonight. Mine
mated a rogue back in June.
Memories of the only night I held Aster in my arms in this
very room flooded me again. Standing in my old bedroom was more
torture than the whip. I turned back to my best friend. He shifted his
weight from foot to foot in an uncharacteristic display of unease.
“Did he say why he was here?” I asked.
Jackson shook his head, “Just that he had a message from
the Alpha Council that he would only deliver to you.”
“Tell him I’ll be right down,” I said. Jackson nodded and left
me alone. I took a deep breath and allowed myself one last look at
the room. The ghost of Aster and would likely always linger, even
though her scent was long gone. How could Aster choose a rogue
over me? We were made for each other, born to rule this pack. Now
I had to rule alone.

I made my way downstairs to my office. Jackson paced

outside the closed door. When he saw me, he twitched, “It’s The
Beast, man,” he whispered, “The Council sent the Goddess damned
Beast.”
 Despite Jackson’s obvious fear, I doubted the legendary Beast
of Barrow was as scary as the tales described. No wolf in human
form stood as tall as a building; no wolf was the size of a horse. It
was an old wives tale to scare Alpha wolves into behaving.
The Beast of Barrow legends could fill a book. A creature so
evil, he had to be reborn every few generations to cull the wolf
packs of unworthy blood lines. My father said it was all bullshit. The
Alpha Council just called up the scariest looking non-Alpha and gave
him the title of Beast. For all his faults, the late Alpha Biel was
fearless, and to live up to the name, I couldn’t jump at fairytales.
I opened the office door to see the largest man I’ve ever seen
sitting in my chair, dwarfing the massive oak desk.
“Alpha Biel is dead,” the wolf’s voice rumbled, filling the space
with a menacing baritone.
I nodded, “I’m his son, Kendrick. I am scheduled to Ascend to
Alpha at the Autumnal Equinox.”
“Shall we begin?” The Beast asked. He leaned back in the
gaudy red leather chair, “Or will your Beta be joining us?”
I closed the door behind me and took a seat in Beta Lorde’s
usual chair, I didn’t like being in a submissive position to this
stranger. But respect went a long way in Alpha Council dealings.
Until my position was secure, I couldn’t afford to slight their
representatives, “You have a message for me?”
“Now now, presumed Alpha,” The Beast mocked, “Patience. I
have lots of things to discuss with you.”
“Then let’s get started,” I said. I leaned back in my chair in a
casual a show of relaxation. The Beast probably knew it was an act,
but it was necessary. An Alpha couldn’t show fear, and an Alpha
couldn’t show weakness.
“There are reports that you kidnapped an exiled pack
member, a year and a half or so,” he said steepling his fingers in
front of his sunglass covered face.
“Her exile was due to her unshifted status,” I replied, using
the rehearsed story, “It was within my father’s rights to send me to
collect her when we learned she was not unshifted.”
 The Beast’s meaty fingers moved to my keyboard, I started to
get nervous. I doubted the monster could navigate my privacy
settings, but that wasn’t a guarantee. His hand moved to the mouse
and he started clicking, “Tell me, Alpha, do you make it a habit of
hiring private investigators to follow all unshifted exiles?”
My heart started to race, despite my years of training, there
was no hiding the anxiety this conversation was awakening in me.
The Beast continued to click before he turned the monitor around so
we could both see what he was looking out.
My stomach dropped. Click a photo of Aster taking an order at
the Tooth and Claw, click, a photo of a teenage Aster leaving class at
the college, click a photo of Aster volunteering at a town festival. My
heart raced as the images flew faster and faster.
I gulped, trying to gain control of the conversation, “Aster
was the only one in recent memory. Typically, our unshifted are
claimed as mates before they come of age. For our own peace of
mind, we wanted to make sure she was alright.”
The Beast nodded, “And Aster had no Moon Blessed mate,
correct?”
“Correct,” I managed to force the word from my throat.
“Interesting,” The Beast mused, clicking through a few more
pictures. He reached a photo of Aster taken a few years ago,
removing her clothes before a shift. He found my secret folder. The
private investigator I hired during my senior year of college had
been one of the best investments at the time. Now, knowing that
the Beast of Barrow was seeing my private stash of Aster, made me
sick. Most photos in this folder were of the denuding nature. The
longer he clicked through, the thicker the scent of arousal
permeated the office, from him, or me, I didn’t know.
“And you still have not found your own Moon Blessed mate,
correct?” The Beast asked continuing to click through.
“Correct,” I agreed. My eyes were trained on the photos. The
last time I tortured myself with the images was weeks ago. Each
time I dared look at them, new scars opened. My wolf pawed
against my skin. He wanted to touch the woman on the screen, he
still didn’t fully understand photography when he watched the world
through my eyes.
“I’m not sure if I should pity you, or be jealous,” the Beast
said. With a click, he ended the glimpse into Aster’s life. My wolf
whined at the loss, “I had a mate, best three days of my life. Then
she went back to her pack, and they killed her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, dragging my eyes away from the monitor’s
blue background to look at the Beast. His large dark sunglasses
mirrored my own face back at me, completely obscuring his eyes.
The legends said that the Beast could kill your inner wolf with just a
glance, killing you in the process. He probably wore the glasses to
cultivate the legend.
“I was told you had a message for me?” I asked, bringing the
conversation back to the start, “Or are you going to ask more
questions about Aster? I didn’t think rogue wolves were Council
business.”
“A dissolved mating of an Alpha wolf is always Council
business, particularly when said Alpha is not Moon Blessed. Or do
you have a succession plan in place?”
“Succession?” I asked.
The Beast nodded, “It is Council law that no wolf can Ascend
to Alpha mateless.”
“But I-”
“Have no mate,” The Beast painfully reminded me, “The
Council was already concerned about a chosen mate Ascension.
They will not allow a mateless Ascension. There are rumors in your
pack that you had a Moon Blessed mate who disappeared. It is my
duty to validate such claims...”
I shook my head, “Those are just rumors.”
“That so?” The Beast leaned forward across my desk, “Then
I’m sure you’re prepared to let another Alpha wolf Ascend over the
Equinox.”
I growled. This was my pack. I was not giving it up that
easily, and I said as such.
“Better hope your Moon Blessed mate magically appears in
the next,” he looks at his bare wrist, as if he had a watch, “three and
a half weeks. Or I will be back. And I will take particular joy in
bringing down the House of Biel.”
The Beast stood from behind my desk. He was not as tall as
legends stated, but there was no way he was under seven feet tall.
“I’ll be watching you,” The Beast said as he walked out of the
office.
The door shut with an echoing thud.
I rushed to the computer. The Beast deleted my Aster folder
and cleared the recycling. I searched for hours but they were gone.
They couldn’t be gone. It was all I had of Aster. My hand flew to my
chest where for years I carried her claw. But that was gone now, she
made me give it to her.
My calendar app beeped. I had the weekly pack meeting in an
hour. I needed to get myself together before then. This pack needed
a Biel as Alpha. Since its founding in the 1870’s Kootenai was ruled
by an Alpha Biel. Without me, the pack would be destroyed.

I looked out over my pack. With Labor Day weekend rapidly

approaching, all the pups were getting ready to start school. I
needed to make sure this pack meeting was short. Elder Ursine sat
with the rest of the Elder Council. Their preparations for the Fall
Equinox celebrations were well in hand. If Aster had stayed around,
she’d be in charge, but as I have no Alpha Female, the Elder Council
had taken those duties.
I looked down at my agenda, no new shift or mating claims,
not too much of a surprise, most first shifts happen in the Winter
and Spring. Soon though, the pack would be flooded with young
whelps ready and eager to take on the woods.
The pack was getting restless. All eyes watched me. They
waited for me to start the meeting. Kyla and Marcus each held a
newborn in their arms. Twins. My heart ached. The pups had been
born early, too early, but thrived under Kyla’s careful watch. This was
the first time they were out with the pack.
“Welcome Kootenai Pack,” I said, “We’ll keep the meeting
brief today, I have no official announcements except to welcome the
Michaels’ twins, Riley and Mason. Elder Ursine, how are the Equinox
preparations coming along?”
The oldest of the Elders stood from his chair and hobbled up
to the microphone. I took a step back, remaining standing.
“It’s coming along fine,” he said before bowing his ancient
head and tottering back to his seat.
A nod would have sufficed, but such is the nature of pack
business.
“Any other business?” I asked over the crowd. No hands
raised, “Alright, then, remember while it is not yet hunting season,
poachers are a real threat. If you choose to run, run inside the
boundaries set by the Sentinels. Sentinel Marquis, if you would
provide the land updates.”
The meeting continued and I had to keep my face focused, so
it wasn’t apparent that I was bored. Finally, it was over, and we
could start the pack meal. Despite the failure of my mating, I
learned a lot from the brief time Aster was mine.
“Alright we’ll conclude the meeting here. Meal order today will
be-,” I drew a slip of paper from the meal suggestion box the pack
children filled out during shifter school every Sunday, “First shifts
going backwards in time. So, Nelson,” our most recent new whelp,
“Your family will start the line.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as everyone filed out. Randomizing
the meal order kept the pack from getting too anxious over meal
orders. Sometimes you ate first, sometimes you ate last, the only
major change was that there was always food. It took two- or three-
monthly meetings, but Willow and the shewolves figured it out.
“Alpha,” Elder Ursine said walking up to me, “the Elder Council
requires a word with you.”
I nodded, “Speak freely.”
“With the divorce finalized, and Aster’s remating,” the Elder
did not soften his blows, “you will need to relinquish your Alpha
status unless you find your Moon Blessed mate before the Equinox”
“I know,” I growled, “I don’t know how the Council expects
me to find a mate in three weeks when I haven’t been able to find
her in 17 years?”
 I had found her, but as Elder Ursine so rudely reminded me,
she remated. To a rogue. My wolf riled at my skin. After the Beast’s
visit, my wolf’s eternal desire to race back to Easterville and drag
Aster back to him, intensified... But that hadn’t worked the first time.
If I tried it now, I’d have a whole pack of rogues, a grizzly bear, and
a town full of Aster devotees to contend with.
“I’m sorry son,” Elder Ursine said, “This is not our choice, it is
the ruling of the Alpha Council.”
A growl escaped my throat, “What do you suggest I do?”
“Go find her,” Elder Ursine said, “Take the lawyer and an
Enforcer, and do not return unless you find her.”

Kendrick

Three weeks Before Ascension

“I think I found her,” Owen said, closing the office door
behind him.
“Found who?” I asked bitterly. I looked at Owen and couldn’t
keep my eyes from finding the calendar that hung behind his head.
It had been one week since the Elders informed me of my deadline.
I had two weeks to find a loophole in the laws that would allow me
to keep my pack mateless.
“Your Moon Blessed mate,” Owen said with an unnaturally
smug smile.
“There’s no way in hell...” I started to say but choked on her
name.
“Not Aster,” Owen jumped in. He pulled up one of the hideous
plush chairs in the Alpha office and leaned over my desk, so we
were almost nose to nose, “Remember that a shewolf in Tennessee,
I mentioned a few months back?”
I didn’t.
“She would be perfect for you,” Owen continued. And he
would continue unless I stopped him. I held up a hand before he
blabbered on.
 “The only shewolves without Moon Blessed mates are widows
or children,” I growl, “No one on this planet is going to believe the
Moon Goddess blessed me with a child.”
“Correct,” Owen said, he pulled out his phone and held up the
image in front of me.
The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old; I
forced his hand and the phone in it away from my face, “I just said I
wasn’t mating a child. There are very few things I wouldn’t do to
keep this pack, but I’m not-”
“The picture is over ten years old,” Owen said, “Didn’t you see
her eyes?”
I hadn’t looked closely at the image, “What about them?” not
that it mattered, no eyes could compare to Aster’s emerald beauties.
“Ghost Eyes,” Owen said with far more gravitas than the
nonsense words deserved, “Moon cursed. She doesn’t have a Moon
Blessed mate, will never have a Moon Blessed mate.”
“If everyone knows she doesn’t have a Moon Blessed-”
“That’s the best part-” Owen said interrupting me, “All the
people that believe in the curse are loonies. The poor girl has been
living feral since her first shift. I would bet my house that she would
be willing to pretend to be your Moon Blessed mate for a chance at
a normal life.”
“This is...”
“It’s perfect,” Owen said, “It’s a win-win. You get a mate; she
gets a normal life. Their pack gets rid of the feral wolf in the woods,
our pack gets to keep our Alpha.”
“No one’s going to believe it,” I remark again, “I’ve done
visits, Moon Blessing visits, to every pack in the country. There’s no
way I wouldn’t have claimed-”
“Again, it’s perfect because,” Owen tapped his hands on my
desk giving himself a drum roll, “First of all, she’s never gone to a
mating event. Second, her wolf disappeared from pack grounds ten
years ago and mysteriously reappeared almost eighteen months
later.”
“But I’ve still been to all the packs in Tennessee.”
 “But, your last visit to the Great Smoky pack was, get this,
nine years ago,” Owen said with a broad smile, “The two of you have
never been in claiming range of each other. What you two have is
the perfect storm of a tragically delayed Moon Blessing.”
“Let me think about it,” I told him.
“I’m going to tell them you said yes,” Owen said, already
texting on his phone, “I can back out of the deal if you figure
something better before the deadline. Which you won’t.”
“Don’t do that,” I said reaching to get the phone out of his
hand, “you’ll get the poor girl’s hopes up.”
Owen pulled his phone out of reach, “Poor girl?” he asked
with a smirk, “See? You love her already. Besides, she’s been feral
for ten years, it might take two weeks to teach her how to take a
bath again.”
“Goddess help me,” I groan. My temples pulsed as another
blistering headache prepared to assault me. One good night's sleep
was all I needed. Too bad I hadn’t had one since my first shift.

Kendrick

Sixteen Years Before Ascension

Anger filled my body and reddened my face. No matter how
much I tried to calm my blooming rage, it kept blooming up with
every word spoken. My parents sat at opposite ends of the massive
table talking about me like I wasn’t in the room, as usual. Mom’s
mass of curly blonde hair bobbed as she threw her hands animatedly
in the argument. My father remained motionless, a statue of
contained fury. His mouth was a firm line, barely moving as he
rebuffed her claims. The only indication of his displeasure was the
occasional growl that sounded from deep in his chest.
Tonight’s debate was about where I would spend the summer.
As future Alpha, I spent my school breaks at other packs. Over
Christmas break I’d be in Boston, over Spring break, I’d be in Maine,
they still hadn’t decided where I’d go for the summer. Supposedly it
was to learn how to be a leader. In reality, I think they just liked
getting rid of me. Mom wanted me to go out East this summer. Dad
wanted me to go overseas.
“He’s thirteen,” mom argued, “That’s way too young to travel
that far alone!”
“He’s thirteen,” my dad countered, “he’s too old to be coddled
by his mother.”
“He’s thirteen!” I shouted mocking their tones, “He wants to
spend the summers with his friends.”
Both my parents stopped talking and glared at me. I just
committed a mortal sin for the Biel household. I talked out of turn.
I’d talked disrespectfully to the Alpha. I sighed, I was already going
to be punished, might as well earn it, “Jackson doesn’t have to go
anywhere over summer break. He and Dale go fishing in the lake
and swim and have fun. I never get to have any fun. You’re the
worst parents in the world.”
I slammed my fork down on the table. My father growled. I
knew what his next words were going to be, but I was so sick of
them running my life. Of ruining my life. I held up my hand in the
way he had done to every wolf I’d seen come into our home, “Save
it, I’ll send myself downstairs.”
I marched bravely to the stairwell. The closer I got to the
basement the more my anger induced bravado disappeared and the
anxiety of what would happen next washed over me. Ugh they were
really angry this time. How many lashes would it be? 5? 10? I
walked past the wall of my mother’s whips which she made me
maintain. It was my least favorite chore. The scent of blood mixed
with the leather polish in a way that was wholly unnatural. Just
thinking about it made my stomach turn.
I took off my shirt and walked into the room. There stood the family
whipping post. How many nights had I spent tied to this one, and
before it, the smaller one mocking me in the corner? I heard my
father’s footsteps as he made his way behind me. I took a deep
breath, what was one more night? It was inevitable in the Biel
family.
 “This behavior of yours needs to stop,” he growled looking at
his own wall of whips, unlike my mother, my father preferred cat o
nine tail whips. Today he picked the one with six silver tips. Fewer
lashes but more damage. The silver wasn’t poisonous to our kind,
but dad liked the fear silver still induced in the pack due to the
human legends.
I felt my pulse pick up. I hated the whip he chose. I couldn’t
show fear. I knew he could smell it, but I needed to not show it. I
kneeled before the post and put my arms around it. The innate
reaction to pull away from the pole had long since left me. I could
hold myself against the pole as long as they made me.
I gripped it tight. The first crack came with six quick stings. I
refused to cry out. Normally dad told me the number I’d have to
endure before punishment began. He didn’t this time. He just
started cracking.
I lost count after 30. I started counting again and lost count
after another 15. I didn’t think dad was counting. He kept hitting
and hitting. My arms felt weak, I long since lost feeling in them. Was
it possible to die from punishment?
If I died, would anyone care? Would anyone notice I was
gone?
Finally, it stopped. I collapsed on the floor. My face was sticky
with sweat and the floor was sticky with drying blood. How long had
we gone through this?
“Throw those pants in the fire before you go to bed,” my
father growled, the whip clattered to the ground, “And clean the
flogger.”
He left the room. I willed my muscles to move. To do
anything, besides hurt. Everything hurt. My legs burned, it felt like
my bones were breaking. I felt my hips pop, I didn’t understand.
Had he whipped my legs too? Then my arms started to hurt.
Was I dying?
My shoulders popped forward. I managed to keep my eyes
open long enough to see thick black hair growing from my skin.
More pain overtook me as every bone in my body reshaped, my skin
stretched and pulled, the organs in my body shifted inside of me.
The terror of uncertainty was replaced as I opened my eyes again.
The room was completely different than it had been before. Every
smell was heightened. The copper scent of my blood overwhelmed
the leather and the faint scent of my father. Was this what the
afterlife was like? I took a careful step forward and slid on unsteady
paws.
Paws. I had paws.
I wasn’t dead.
I shifted.

I gave up trying to get out of the whipping room and found a

corner to sleep in. My fur was matted with blood from my failed
attempts to stand on four paws in the puddle. Instinct told me to
clean my fur, so predators didn’t smell it. But I wasn’t ready for that
part of wolf life. When I shifted back to human form I would shower
like a real boy.
My mother found me in the morning still in wolf form. Her
eyes widened in surprise when she saw me, and she squealed in
delight. My father came running downstairs to see what had caused
the sound from mom. He beamed with pride.
“Look at that handsome wolf,” mom said, “Our son shifted!”
her curly hair bounced as she jumped in my dad’s arms.
“He still needs to get to school,” dad grumbled, setting his
mate down he walked over and crouched in front of my wolf. A small
lift to the left corner of his mouth was the only indication he might
be pleased with my change. His hollow yellow eyes bored into my
own. Power suffused the room raising my wolf’s hackles, dad leaned
forward and said one word, “Shift.”
The power in the room flowed into my body at his command.
I was powerless to resist. Every shifter knew that there was power in
an Alpha’s voice, but I’d never felt it firsthand. It was terrifying, it
was compelling, I was at the mercy of my father in a more primal
way than ever before. Within seconds I was back in human form,
sticky with blood.
“Go get showered and dressed for school,” he instructed.
“Ok, dad,” I said, moving to walk passed him.
 He grabbed my arm, “You’re a wolf now. I’m your Alpha. Call
me by my title, same with your mother. I’ll forget the disrespect, this
time.”
His voice rendered straight through to my spine. goosebumps
covered my arms and legs. Every thought of this man as my father
was gone. He was no longer dad. He was Alpha Biel, now and
forever.
“Yes, Alpha, thank you, Alpha” I amended and trudged up the
stairs, exhausted. I fell asleep standing in the shower.

My mother, ahem Mama Biel finally got me out of the shower

and into clothes. It was nearly lunch time.
“Can I please just miss school today?” I pleaded, “I’m so
tired, and hungry.”
“Who knows, maybe you’ll even find your mate today, won’t
that be exciting?” she said, continuing a conversation I didn’t realize
we were having. There was no hope of not going to school today.
Mama Biel decided.
Her words translated through to my tired brain and a new
wave of panic ran through me, she said mate. Oh Goddess, I hadn’t
even thought of that. I was thirteen, I just wanted to hang out with
my friends. I didn’t want a mate.
She took pity on me and took me for lunch at the diner, Bark
About It. Mama Biel ordered me the Sentinel special. It wasn’t on
the menu, but it was something pack wolves ate after they patrolled.
“You’re one of us now, dear,” Mama Biel told me, sipping her
coffee. When Peggy Jensen, a shewolf who worked at Bark About It
so long she was practically a part of the furniture, popped by the
table with the first plate of food and she eyed me suspiciously.
“Ricky shifted last night,” Mama Biel gloated she told every
wolf we passed about my shift, “He’s only thirteen, can you believe
it?”
smiled at me, “That’s wonderful. Your wolf will make a strong
Alpha for us. I’ll bring you another juice.”
I started eating the plates of sausage, kielbasa, and bacon.
The new presence inside of me wanted more meat. He wanted it
fresher. He wanted it raw.
“We’ll take you out with us hunting this weekend,” Reggie
Nelson, one of dad’s Enforcers, patted me on the back. More
Enforcers joined in the congratulations, I didn’t pay attention to who
they were, I was too hungry.
Mama Biel pushed her plate of kielbasa to me and I devoured
it. In my entire life, she had never looked so proud of me. I didn’t do
anything special. I didn’t even mean to do it. It just happened.
I finished all the food on the table and Mama Biel insisted we
needed to go to school now. I wanted anything but to go to school.
Especially for just half the day. Everyone would want to know where
I’d been, and I couldn’t tell them.
She pulled into the parking lot, “Oh, Ricky, it won’t be so
bad.”
The name grated against my ears, “Don’t call me Ricky,” I
growled.
She smirked, “What should I call you then? Kenny?”
“My name, call me Kendrick.”
“Oh ok,” she was laughing at me. It only made me angrier.
“Can’t we just go home, Christmas break is next week, just
tell them you sent me to Boston early?” I begged. I didn’t want to
be in school. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want anyone to
know.
“Come on now Rick- Kendrick,” at least she was trying, “They
already saw you. I’ll talk to the principal. If you get overwhelmed,
you can go to the nurse.”
“Alpha Biel won’t approve,” I growled. Going to the nurse
would be a sign of weakness. I couldn’t show weakness.
“What dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, not today,” she was
opening her car door bidding me to do the same, she leaned back in
the car and pushed me out the other side.
“Fine,” I grumbled.
I could hear the kids on the playground. Everyone not in high
school ran around the playground. It was a zoo. They would all see
me walking into school with my mom. It was mortifying.
 Jackson and Dale shouted my name from where they were
playing on the jungle gym. I didn’t look at them. They wouldn’t
understand. How could they? Mama Biel pushed me to walk faster
and I lifted my eyes and stared into the most beautiful set of pale
green eyes I had ever seen. The wolf inside of me wanted to howl. I
felt like I was being pulled by an invisible leash. It wanted to be
closer to her.
“He shifted,” the perfect creature whispered to her friend. She
knew what had happened to me. I had to look away. I needed to
stop staring. When I made it into the building, I thought I was going
to barf. My wolf whined outwardly this time.
“What’s going on Kendrick?”
I looked at her and she smiled down at me with pity, “Which
one was it?”
My eyebrows twitched. Damn it which one was she? I only
saw her gorgeous green eyes. What was her name?
“Try to keep your wolf in your skin, Romeo,” she said patting
my shoulders leading me toward the principal's office.
I wanted to go back to the playground. I wanted to find her.
To know everything about her. I already knew the most important
thing, whoever she was, she was mine.
Mine.
 Chapter 2
Jen

Three weeks Before Ascension

“Mate?” I repeated my question. They still did not answer me.
“We’ll talk about it when we’re out of the rain,” Mama assured
me, “Come inside.”
I followed. The others kept their distance from me, but still
had me surrounded. A bubble of wolves. A cage, a trap.
Inside was foreign, four walls, doors, windows, artificial heat.
I was given a man’s t shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts to wear.
The clothing felt heavy against my skin. I couldn’t remember the last
time I’d worn clothes.
I sat on a couch. Everyone else stood against the walls, as far
as physically possible from Ghost Eyes.
“Do you remember me?” the confident male voice belonged
to a younger man, still older than me by several years, but nowhere
near as old as the rest of the men around the room. He held a
pregnant blonde woman close under his arms. His mate, the woman
looked so familiar, I inhaled, and memories flooded into me.
Memories of giggling girls and painted toenails. The memories tied
to the scent weren’t of a blonde woman, they were of my sister.
I stared at him, not ready to answer. To answer was to admit
I knew who they were. To admit the pain, I had caused to him and
my sister. I lived with the guilt of my curse every day; I didn’t relish
having to relive the reason for my exile.
“I’m Michael Newaters, Alpha Newaters son?” he offered. His
eyes were concerned but kind. The Newaters from my memory
hadn’t been concerned for me. I was immediately suspicious.
“Alpha Newaters,” I remembered Alpha Newaters, he was the
Alpha who exiled me after my curse, “but you’re not him. Alpha
Newaters was older than Mama.”
“I’m his son, I’m Alpha now,” Michael-Alpha Newaters said, he
held the blonde woman closer to him, “This is my mate, Mariah...
your sister. Do you remember her?”
“Mariah’s not blonde,” I stated bluntly. I knew it was Mariah. I
was feral, not stupid. I only saw her once after my first shift, but
even a feral wolf remembered her family.
“I dyed it,” Mariah replied. Her voice sounded familiar, but still
scared. The scent of her terror filled the room, obscuring the scents
of the rest of the strangers. I had likely known all of them once, but
it was before my world shifted. My memories of faces weren’t as
good as my memories of smells, and if I didn’t meet them after my
first shift, I had no idea who they were.
These wolves talked to me as if I was stupid. They must
believe that a cursed wolf couldn’t hold a conversation. I probably
could, I read enough stolen books to remember how they were
supposed to go. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk to these wolves
though.
“Are you afraid of me?” I asked Mariah. The words came out
harsh. Even in human form, my wolf was unwilling to let me show
the vulnerability I felt. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. I wanted
my sister. I wanted my family. On my mountain, I was able to forget,
but I couldn’t here, surrounded by the scents of pack. A pack I
never got to have. A pack I couldn’t allow myself to crave. The life I
so desperately wanted.
Mariah looked away and didn’t answer, and her smell said it
all; she was terrified.
“Leave your sister be,” Mama scolded me, “She’s got a pup in
the belly and you know she doesn’t handle stress well.”
I turned my attention to Mama and waited. She lured my wolf
from our forest den weeks ahead of schedule. Now I was being
teased with a mate and no one was giving me answers. My wolf
raged inside of me. They weren’t here to give me a mate, this was a
trick. We were cornered, we weren’t safe. I dug my nails into my
palms to focus on something other than my wolf. If there was even
the smallest chance that this was real, I couldn’t be feral.
 “We have heard of a pack Alpha searching for a mate,” Alpha
Newaters spoke, taking my attention back over to him and my
quivering sister, “With your permission, we’d like to present you as
an option.”
The fear of being cornered was gone, replaced with curiosity.
A pack Alpha? My wolf’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s wrong
with him?” I blurt out. I may be nearly feral, but I grew up in the
pack, I knew you couldn’t ascend to Alpha status without a mate.
Unmated shewolves and widows would line up around the block to
mate an Alpha.
“Nothing’s wrong with him, Jen,” Mama scolded, “he needs a
mate, a female with no Moon Blessed mate to be his Alpha Female
and bear his pups. Do you want a mate or not?”
“I want a mate,” I admitted.
“What was that?” Mama asked, “I raised you better than to
mumble.”
“I want a mate,” I told her.
“Excellent,” Alpha Newaters said, “go get cleaned up,
tomorrow we’ll reintegrate you into society and get you ready to
meet your mate.”

Over the next two weeks I worked very hard to learn to be

human. I had to relearn how to write, use flatware, and shower.
Most notably, I learned to drive a car and got my license. Most
wolves did this as teenagers.
All the while, everyone stayed as far away from me as
possible. No one touched me unless it was absolutely necessary.
They kept conversation to a minimum. I couldn't blame them;
stories of my curse were spread far and wide. The wolves who
helped me become human again were sacrificing their safety to rid
the pack of the cursed Ghost Eyes.
I couldn’t focus on them; they were my old pack. I couldn’t
allow myself to get distracted by the wolves. If I wanted a mate, I
needed to be human. I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and I
would do whatever it took to make it happen.
 Jen

Eleven years Before Ascension

More pain than I ever knew was possible coursed through
every inch of my body. Every joint hurt. Every muscle burned. Every
pore stretched.
But I didn’t care.
I was changing.
This is the moment I’ve waited for fifteen years.
That didn’t make it any less torturous. The fur sprouted
slowly, like ants crawling from my toes to the tip of my head.
Grey fur, I noted with disappointment.
So far, the other females of my generation were a swath of
colors. Margo was a copper red, Elise was black as midnight, and
Charlene was pale as snow. My wolf was grey, figures.
The rest of the change happened an hour in an instant and I
was overtaken by my wolf. She threw her head back and bayed at
the moonless sky before taking total control of the body, sending me
into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up in my front yard, covered in twigs, dirt, and dried

blood.
“Moons, I hope it’s not mine,” I muttered to myself, brushing
off the flaking mud and dried blood off my thighs. Most of the blood
was down my inner thighs and on my neck. I thought nothing of it,
it didn’t really matter one way or another. What mattered was that I
had a wolf.
“Oh, moons above,” Mama said, barreling out of the trailer,
“Jennifer, you can’t just go disappear for three days then come back
shifting on the front lawn.” Her voice was a harsh whisper.
“Sorry Mama,” I told her getting to my feet, “It wasn’t on
purpose.”
Mama’s deeply wrinkled face softened, and she pressed a
hand to my face, she gasped, startling me, riling my inner wolf,
“Come inside, let’s get you cleaned up and you can tell me all about
your first shift.”
I nodded and followed her in. Mama twitched and bit her
cheek; her eyes scanned the yard and tree line as if making sure no
one saw my shift. When Mariah first shifted, Mama hollered for joy.
She howled into the night sky that her pup was a whelp now. But
she shepherded me inside like she was ashamed. Was it the blood? I
didn’t remember Mariah being covered in blood, but I had been so
young at the time. I was more focused on my tv show being
interrupted than my older sister getting her wolf.
“Shower up dear, then we’ll talk,” she said, patting me on the
arm.
I went into the small bathroom and nearly jumped out of my
skin. For a brief second, I thought there was a serial killer, ghost, or
horror movie monster in the mirror. But the strange woman moved
when I moved. It was me.
I spent several minutes staring at myself in the mirror. I knew
the first shift could bring changes, but this.... this was too much.
My hands traced over my face, where once I’d had my
father’s tan skin, was now pale and where I’d had my mother’s warm
brown eyes were replaced with an eye of blue and an eye of dark
brown. My once auburn hair was black with a thin grey stripe down
the middle. My heart raced. I didn’t even look like the same Jennifer.
My hands moved unbidden to the biggest change; a giant
scar on my neck. A huge, ugly, scar. Tears raced down my face. No
one would want me now. I was hideous.
“Jennifer? Sugar?” Mama’s voice called from the other side of
the bathroom door, “You have to come out sometime. Alpha
Newaters is coming over to congratulate you on your first shift.”
A sob wracked my body. Congratulate me? For this?
“Jennifer!” Daddy hollered, he must have come back early
from work, “If you don’t open this door this instant-”
I took one final look in the mirror. Daddy would know what to
do. He would know what happened. I took a deep breath, wrapped
the towel tightly around my torso, and opened the door.
 Daddy’s fist was raised prepared to pound on the door some
more. When he looked at me, it dropped and he stepped back,
running into the wall.
“Daddy?” I asked, voice trembling. I reached out to him, but
he slid along the wall away from me.
“Witch,” his voice wavered but he moved further away from
me. I turned to look at Mama who was frowning at me.
“Mama?” I asked, pleaded, I wanted to know what was going
on.
“It’s ok, Jennifer,” she said gently stroking my arm.
“No!” dad growled. He pounced into action, pulling Mama
from me, “It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Chuck, it’s Jenny, your baby girl,” Mama scolded,
“She came back from her first shift covered in blood lookin’ a bit
different, but she’s still your little wolf.”
Daddy shook his head, stroking Mama’s hair, “I can’t risk you,
Eileen. I would break beyond repair if something happened to you.”
Mama ducked out of his hold, “Well I’d break beyond repair if
something happens to my baby girl. Now cut out this nonsense,” the
screen door rattled as Alpha Newaters knocked, “Go let the Alpha in
while I get Jenny presentable.”
“Eileen,” Daddy’s voice was a low warning growl.
“Charles,” she returned with her own fierce growl.
I bypassed their standoff and went into my room. I tried to
dress quickly, but overnight I’d managed to outgrow all my clothes.
My jeans were too tight to button, my shirts bared my midriff. The
only thing I could find that would fit was a pair of Mariah’s maternity
pajamas that she’d ditched in the back of my closet so her mother-
in-law would think she lost them.
The pajamas were a pair of hideous yellow shorts that barely
covered my backside with a pleated trim and a billowy tank top that
read Hawt to Drop, with sunflower decorated arrows pointing at the
belly.
“Jenny, sugar, you have to come out now,” Mama knocked on
the bedroom door quietly opening it as she did, “Oh, my, that’s....”
“Nothing fits, Mama,” I cried, “I’m a freak.”
 “Oh sugar,” she wrapped me in her arms. She barely came up
to my shoulders now, we’d been the same height before, “You’re not
a freak. Everyone changes after their first shift.”
I scoffed, “Mariah went up a bra size, I grew a foot.”
“Hush now,” Mama said smacking my shoulder, “Alpha
Newaters is here and he brought the whole family to congratulate
you.”
I bit my lip, my newly sharp eyetooth cut my lip filling my
mouth with blood, “Ah,” I gagged spitting blood into my towel. The
bleeding stopped as quickly as it started, and I let Mama lead me
into the small patio out front.
“Jenny!” Mariah called excited, when Mama opened the door
“I’m so happy for you!” she ran over and wrapped her arms around
me. Her stomach slightly swollen from her first pregnancy. She
stepped back keeping her hands on my waist, her bright smile faded
to a face of horror, “Ohmylord,” Mariah stepped back and grasped
her mate’s hand, and whispered to him.
“You didn’t mention the complete change, Chuck,” Alpha
Newaters said to Daddy. Both men had grown up together and
despite their close age, Alpha Newaters looked so much older. Deep
wrinkles lined his face and his hair was thin and grey. While Daddy’s
face sported a few lines, Alpha Newaters looked old enough to be
Daddy’s father.
“What happened to her?” Alpha Newaters asked his dad,
“She’s taller than me. And her hair.”
“She’s standing right here,” Mama scolded, “Don’t talk about
Jenny like she’s not here. My baby girl had her first shift, that’s
something to be celebrated.”
“Jennifer,” Alpha Newaters stood and walked over to me, but
he didn’t touch me, “What do you remember about your shift?
Where did you run? Who did you see? What did you do?”
“I remember shifting, and I remember waking up on the
lawn,” I told him. Fidgeting with my hair, dropping it whenever I
caught a strand of the grey. Alpha Newaters eyes flashed when he
saw the horrible scar on my throat.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 The Project Gutenberg eBook of Anthology of
Russian literature from the earliest period to the
present time, volume 1 (of 2)
 This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: Anthology of Russian literature from the earliest period to

the present time, volume 1 (of 2)
From the tenth century to the close of the eighteenth
century

Author: Leo Wiener

Release date: October 22, 2023 [eBook #71933]

Most recently updated: December 27, 2023

Language: English

Original publication: New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1902

Credits: The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
images generously made available by The Internet
Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANTHOLOGY

OF RUSSIAN LITERATURE FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO
THE PRESENT TIME, VOLUME 1 (OF 2) ***
 ANTHOLOGY OF
RUSSIAN LITERATURE

From the
Earliest Period
to the Present
Time

BY
LEO WIENER
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF SLAVIC
LANGUAGES AT HARVARD
UNIVERSITY

In Two Parts

8o with Photogravure
Frontispieces

Part I.—From the Tenth Century

to the Close of the
Eighteenth Century

Part II.—From the Close of the

Eighteenth Century to
the Present Time

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
NEW YORK LONDON
Lomonosow
Anthology of Russian Literature
From the Earliest Period to the
Present Time

By
Leo Wiener
Assistant Professor of Slavic Languages at Harvard University

IN TWO PARTS

From the Tenth Century to the Close of the Eighteenth Century

G. P. Putnam’s Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1902
 Copyright, 1902
BY
LEO WIENER

Published, June, 1902

The Knickerbocker Press, New York

 TO MY FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE
ARCHIBALD CARY COOLIDGE
THIS WORK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED
 PREFACE
The time is not far off when the Russian language will occupy the
same place in the curriculum of American universities that it now
does in those of Germany, France and Sweden. A tongue that is
spoken by more than one hundred million people and that
encompasses one-half of the northern hemisphere in itself invites the
attention of the curious and the scholar. But the points of contact
between the Anglo-Saxon and Slavic races are so many, both in
politics and literature, that it is a matter of interest, if not yet of
necessity, for every cultured person of either nationality to become
well acquainted with the intellectual and social life of the other. In
Russia, the English language is steadily gaining in importance, and
not only the universities, but the gymnasiums as well, offer courses
in English. In England and America there are many signs of a similar
interest in their Russian neighbour, though at present it expresses
itself mainly in the perusal of Russian novels in translations that
rarely rise above mediocrity. There is also a growing demand for a
fuller treatment of Russian Literature as a whole, which even Prince
Wolkonsky’s work cannot satisfy, for the reason that only a small
fraction of the nineteenth-century writers, and hardly anything of the
preceding periods, is accessible to the reader for verification. It is the
purpose of this Anthology to render a concise, yet sufficient, account
of Russian Literature in its totality, to give to the English reader who
is not acquainted with any other language than his own a
biographical, critical and bibliographical sketch of every important
author, to offer representative extracts of what there is best in the
language in such a manner as to give a correct idea of the evolution
of Russian Literature from its remotest time. The selections have
been chosen so as to illustrate certain important historical events,
and will be found of use also to the historical student.
In the preparation of this work, I have availed myself of many
native sources, to which I shall express my indebtedness by a
general declaration that I have with profit perused the monumental
works of Pýpin and the authors on whom he has drawn in the
preparation of his history of Russian Literature. To give variety, I
have reproduced such of the existing translations as are less
objectionable. In my own translations, for which alone I am
responsible, I have attempted to render minutely the originals, with
their different styles, not excepting their very imperfections, such as
characterise particularly the writers of the eighteenth century. Only
where the diction is inexpressibly crude, as in Pososhkóv’s writings,
or the text corrupt, as in the Word of Ígor’s Armament, have I made
slight deviations for the sake of clearness.
Russian words are transliterated differently by every translator:
some attempt to give English equivalents, which, even if they were
correctly chosen (they seldom are), cannot possibly give an idea of
the phonetic values in Russian; others follow the simpler method of
an etymological transliteration of letter by letter, but needlessly
encumber the words with diacritical marks and difficult consonant
combinations. The method pursued here, though far from ideal,
recommends itself for its simplicity. Where the Russian and English
alphabets are practically identical, the corresponding letters are
used; in the other cases, the combinations are made with h, for
which there is no corresponding sound in Russian; for the guttural
vowel y is used, which does also the duty of the English y in yes.
There can be no confusion between the two, as the guttural y before
or after a vowel is extremely rare. It is useless for anyone without
oral instruction to try to pronounce Russian words as the natives do.
The nearest approach will be attained if the consonants be
pronounced as in English (g always hard, zh as z in azure, r always
rolled, kh, guttural like German ch in ach), and the vowels always
open as in Italian (a as a in far, e as e in set, o as o in obey, or a little
longer when accented, u as oo in foot, or a little longer when
accented, y between consonants is guttural, which it is useless to
attempt and had better be pronounced like i: i. e., like i in machine or
bit, according to the accent). The accents are indicated throughout
the work. Accented é is frequently pronounced as yó, but it would be
useless to indicate all such cases. It has not been found practicable
to spell Russian names uniformly when their English forms are
universally accepted.
It will not be uninteresting to summarise all that Englishmen and
Americans have done to acquaint their countrymen with the
language and literature of Russia.
When Russia was rediscovered by England in the middle of the
sixteenth century and the Muscovy Company established itself at
Moscow, there was naturally a demand for Englishmen who could
speak Russian. There are frequent references in native reports to
Englishmen who spoke and wrote Russian fluently and who were
even used as ambassadors to the Muscovite Tsars. It was also an
Englishman, Richard James, who, in 1619, made the first collection
of Russian popular songs. In 1696, the first Russian grammar was
published by the Oxford University Press, though its author, Ludolf,
was not an Englishman by birth. In the eighteenth century, there
seems to have been in England no interest in Russia except as to its
religion, which received consideration from certain divines. An
exception must be made in the case of W. Coxe, who in his Travels
in Poland, Russia, Sweden and Denmark, 1st edition, London, 1784,
gave an excellent account of Russian Literature from German and
French sources. In 1821, Sir John Bowring startled his countrymen
with his Specimens of the Russian Poets, which for the first time
revealed to them the existence of a promising literature. Though his
knowledge of Russian was quite faulty, as his translations prove, yet
he put the poems into such pleasing verses that they became
deservedly popular. A second edition followed the same year, and a
second part two years later.
The impulse given by Sir John Bowring found a ready response in
the periodic press of that time. In 1824 the Westminster Review
brought out an article on Politics and Literature of Russia, which
gave a short review of eighteenth-century literature. In 1827, R. P.
Gillies gave a good sketch of Russian Literature in vol. i of the
Foreign Quarterly Review, based on the Russian work of Grech. The
same year, the Foreign Review brought out a short account, and the
next year an elaborate article on Russian Literature and Poetry, also
after Grech, which for some decades formed the basis of all the
articles and chapters dealing with the same subject in the English
language. The Foreign Quarterly Review brought out similar matter
in vol. viii, xxi, xxiii, xxix, xxx. But more interesting than these, which
are nearly all fashioned after some Russian articles, are the
excellent literary notes in every number, that kept the readers
informed on the latest productions that appeared in Russia. There
seems hardly to have been a public for these notes in England, and
indeed they get weaker with the twenty-fourth volume, and die of
inanity in the thirtieth. This early period of magazine articles is
brought to an end by Russian Literary Biography, in vol. xxxvi (1841)
of the Westminster Review.
The example set by Sir John Bowring found several imitators. We
have several anthologies, generally grouping themselves around
Púshkin, for the first half of the century: W. H. Saunders, Poetical
Translations from the Russian Language, London, 1826; [George
Borrow], The Talisman, with Other Pieces, St. Petersburg, 1835; W.
D. Lewis, The Bakchesarian Fountain, and Other Poems,
Philadelphia, 1849. The Foreign Quarterly Review brought out in
1832 translations from Bátyushkov, Púshkin, and Rylyéev, and in
Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine for 1845 T. B. Shaw gave some
excellent translations of Púshkin’s poems. Other articles, treating
individual authors, will be mentioned in their respective places.
While these meagre accounts of Russian Literature, at second
hand, and the scanty anthologies were appearing, there was
published in the Biblical Repository of Andover, Mass., in 1834, the
remarkable work by Talvi, the wife of Dr. Edward Robinson, entitled:
Historical View of the Languages and Literatures of the Slavic
Nations, and this was republished in book-form, and enlarged, in
New York, in 1850. Though there existed some special works by
Slavic scholars, Talvi’s was the first to encompass the whole field in
a scholarly and yet popular manner. It is authoritative even now in
many departments that have not been overthrown by later
investigations, and it is a matter of surprise that none of the later
English writers should have based their Russian Literatures on this
important work, or should have proceeded in the path of Slavic
studies which she had so beautifully inaugurated. There is no excuse
for G. Cox’s translation of F. Otto’s History of Russian Literature, with
a Lexicon of Russian Authors, which appeared at Oxford in 1839,
and adds a number of its own inaccuracies to the blunders of the
German original. Nor is there any notice taken of Talvi in [C. F.
Henningsen’s] Eastern Europe and the Emperor Nicholas, London,
1846, which gives a chapter on Russian Literature, mainly on
Púshkin.
In the sixties W. R. Morfill began to translate some poems from the
Russian, and towards the end of that decade, but especially in the
next, Ralston published his excellent studies on the Folksongs and
Folktales and Krylóv, and in the Contemporary Review, vols. xxiii and
xxvii, two articles on the Russian Idylls. The magazines that in the
seventies reviewed Russian Literature got everything at second
hand, and are of little value: National Quarterly Review, vol. xxiv
(1872); Catholic World, vol. xxi (1875); Harper’s Magazine, 1878. Of
books there were issued: Sutherland Edwards’s The Russians at
Home, London, 1861, a very useful work for contemporary literature,
and F. R. Grahame’s The Progress of Science, Art and Literature in
Russia, London [1865], which contains a great deal of interesting
material badly arranged and ill-digested. The chapter on Literature in
O. W. Wahl’s The Land of the Czar, London, 1875, is unimportant.
Since the eighties there have appeared a number of translations
from good foreign authors bearing on Russian Literature: Ernest
Dupuy, The Great Masters of Russian Literature in the Nineteenth
Century, translated by N. H. Dole, New York [1886]; E. M. de Vogüé,
The Russian Novelists, translated by J. L. Edmands, Boston [1887];
Dr. George Brandes, Impressions of Russia, translated by S. C.
Eastman, New York, 1889; E. P. Bazán, Russia: Its People and its
Literature, translated by F. H. Gardiner, Chicago, 1890.
The following more or less original works will be found useful: W.
R. Morfill, Slavonic Literature, London, 1883, and The Story of
Russia, New York and London, 1890; also his The Peasant Poets of
Russia (Reprint from Westminster Review), London, 1880; C. E.
Turner, Studies in Russian Literature, London, 1882, and before, in
Fraser’s Magazine for 1877; Ivan Panin, Lectures in Russian
Literature, New York and London, 1889; Memorials of a Short Life: A
Biographical Sketch of W. F. A. Gaussen (chapter on The Russian
People and their Literature), London, 1895; Prince Serge Wolkonsky,
Pictures of Russian History and Russian Literature (Lowell Lectures),
Boston, New York and London, 1897; K. Waliszewski, A History of
Russian Literature, New York, 1900, but this work must be used with
extreme caution, on account of the many inaccuracies it contains. W.
M. Griswold’s Tales Dealing with Life in Russia, Cambridge, 1892, is
a fair bibliography of all the prose translations that have appeared in
the English language before 1892. But few anthologies have of late
seen daylight: C. T. Wilson, Russian Lyrics in English Verse, London,
1887; John Pollen, Rhymes from the Russian, London, 1891 (a good
little book); E. L. Voynich, The Humour of Russia, London and New
York, 1895. The periodical “Free Russia,” published in London since
1890, contains some good translations from various writers and
occasionally some literary essay; but the most useful periodic
publication is “The Anglo-Russian Literary Society,” published in
London since 1892, and containing valuable information on literary
subjects, especially modern, and a series of good translations from
contemporary poets. Nor must one overlook the articles in the
encyclopedias, of which those in Johnson’s Cyclopedia are
especially good.
Very exhaustive statements of the modern literary movement in
Russia appear from year to year in the Athenæum. More or less
good articles on modern literature, mainly the novel, have appeared
since 1880 in the following volumes of the periodical press:
Academy, xxi and xxiii; Bookman, viii; Chautauquan, viii and xxii;
Critic, iii; Current Literature, xxii; Dial, xx; Eclectic Magazine, cxv;
Forum, xxviii; Leisure Hours, ccccxxv; Lippincott’s, lviii; Literature, i;
Living Age, clxxxv; Nation, lxv; Public Opinion, xx; Publisher’s
Weekly, liv; Temple Bar, lxxxix.
In conclusion, I desire to express my gratitude to my friends and
colleagues who have aided me in this work: to Prof. A. C. Coolidge,
for leaving at my disposal his collection of translations from the
Russian, and for many valuable hints; to Dr. F. N. Robinson, for
reading a number of my translations; to Prof. G. L. Kittredge, to
whom is largely due whatever literary merit there may be in the
introductory chapters and in the biographical sketches. I also take
this occasion to thank all the publishers and authors from whose
copyrighted works extracts have been quoted with their permission.
 CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface v
A Sketch of Russian Literature 1
I. The Oldest Period 3
II. The Folklore 18
III. The Eighteenth Century 26
The Oldest Period 39
Treaty with the Greeks (911) 41
Luká Zhidyáta (XI. c.) 44
Instruction to his Congregation 44
The Russian Code (XI. c.) 45
Ilarión, Metropolitan of Kíev (XI. c.) 48
Eulogy on St. Vladímir 48
Vladímir Monomákh (1053-1125) 50
His Instruction to his Children 51
Abbot Daniel, the Palmer (XII. c.) 56
Of the Holy Light, how it Descends from Heaven upon 56
the Holy Sepulchre
Epilogue 61
Cyril, Bishop of Túrov (XII. c.) 62
From a Sermon on the First Sunday after Easter 62
Néstor’s Chronicle (XII. c.) 65
The Baptism of Vladímir and of all Russia 65
The Kíev Chronicle (XII. c.) 71
 The Expedition of Ígor Svyatoslávich against the 72
Pólovtses
The Word of Ígor’s Armament (XII. c.) 80
The Holy Virgin’s Descent into Hell (XII. c.) 96
Daniel the Prisoner (XIII. c.) 100
Letter to Prince Yarosláv Vsévolodovich 101
Serapión, Bishop of Vladímir (XIII. c.) 104
A Sermon on Omens 104
The Zadónshchina (XIV. c.) 106
Afanási Nikítin (XV. c.) 111
Travel to India 111
Apocryphal Legends about King Solomon (XV. c.) 114
The Story of Kitovrás 114
Prince Kúrbski (1528-1583) 115
The Storming of Kazán 116
Letter to Iván the Terrible 118
Iván the Terrible (1530-1584) 121
Letter to Prince Kúrbski 121
The Domostróy (XVI. c.) 126
How to Educate Children and Bring them up in the 126
Fear of God
How to Teach Children and Save them through Fear 127
How Christians are to Cure Diseases and all Kinds of 128
Ailments
The Wife is always and in all Things to Take Counsel 128
with her Husband
How to Instruct Servants 129
Songs Collected by Richard James (1619-1620) 130
Incursion of the Crimean Tartars 131
 The Song of the Princess Kséniya Borísovna 132
The Return of Patriarch Filarét to Moscow 133
Krizhánich (1617-1677) 134
Political Reasons for the Union of the Churches 135
On Knowledge 136
On Foreigners 136
Kotoshíkhin (1630-1667) 136
The Education of the Princes 137
The Private Life of the Boyárs and of other Ranks 139
Simeón Pólotski (1629-1680) 149
On the Birth of Peter the Great 150
An Evil Thought 151
The Magnet 151
The Story of Misery Luckless-Plight (XVII. or XVIII. c.) 152
The Folklore 161
Epic Songs 163
Volkh Vseslávevich 163
Ilyá of Múrom and Nightingale the Robber 165
Historical Songs 172
Yermák 172
The Boyár’s Execution 174
The Storming of Ázov 176
Folksongs 177
Kolyádka 178
Bowl-Song 179
A Parting Scene 179
The Dove 180